We Need To Stop Meeting Like This
by MaySoFarAway
Summary: Once upon a time, a girl met a god. And then that girl's lab assistant met that god's buddy. A tale told in explosions and Magnetic Fields songs. More light-hearted than my usual fare!
1. Absolutely Cuckoo

((By popular demand, a tale told in moments, and Magnetic Fields songs. This won't get proper love until I'm done with AHWIP, and I've got a Clintasha ficlet lined up as well, but at least ya'll know it's in the works! You gais and your strange, strange lusts. Also this will likely start out as far more light-hearted and romantic-comedy than my others. Cause come'on, it's Fandral.))

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**We Need To Stop Meeting Like This**

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**Chapter 1**

Absolutely Cuckoo

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The first time they'd met, New Mexico had just finished exploding. Thor was leaping into the sky with Darcy's boss on his arm, and Darcy herself was left firmly on the ground, and flailing a little. Suppose the lug dropped her? Just because he had guns didn't necessarily mean he wasn't clumsy. "Get in the car," Agent Sunglasses, of SHIELD, had called out smoothly, and that was how Darcy found herself crammed in next to Fandral The Dashing, of Asgard. A man in full armor, who didn't leave much room in the seat. And he was looking more than a little disconcerted by the transportation.

"Not used to g-man SUVs?" She cracked a grin, as the poor Asgardian braced himself on the seat in front of him.

"The last time I was on Earth, your people were riding about on horseback, like sensible folk," He had quipped, wincing at the rattling speed. Darcy laughed, and then winced herself, as a particularly bumpy stretch of road send his sword in its scabbard to jab her in the side.

"Oi, watch your weaponry, Errol."

"I'll have you know, my Lady," He'd retorted, adjusting the sword at his hip with a wide grin, "That many a maiden back home would enjoy being so close to my weaponry." Behind her, Darcy heard Xena...er, Sif, groan.

"Really? Sword jokes? I thought Asgardians were clever. Not that Thor's much indication, I'll give you that, but even so..." The way his jaw had dropped had been priceless. Darcy couldn't help grinning, wondering if girls on Asgard really did fall for bad lines that easily, or if, handsome as he was, the guy was just clueless all the time. "...And I've seen bigger."

"I've bested dragons with my blade, Lady Darcy."

"Ah, but how good are you at Rock, Paper, Scissors, Robin Hood?"

By the time they'd pulled up to the Bifrost site, Darcy had successfully explained the mechanics and beaten him twice. Sadly, aforementioned Bifrost had been opening, and damnit all if a kiss to the hand hadn't made her melt just a little, cheesy lines or not. Maybe it really was easy to fall for these people, hook, line and sinker. Darcy had kind of figured it was just the armor. But no, Thor hadn't been wearing his scales and cape, when he'd reduced the smartest woman Darcy had ever met to a grinning 7th grader with a crush. As such, it was probably just good old-fashioned old-fashioned-ness. The jawline definitely helped, too.

And then flashes of light, and they were gone, never to be seen again.

At least, not for another year and a half. When Norway started exploding.

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When Thor saunters through Jane's wormhole generator in Tromso, there's a party and drinks all around. It almost makes up for him not visiting half a year ago, though the excuse that his brother was leveling New York City is acceptable. And for the first time since they'd gotten there, at least one of the girls is toasty warm that night. Darcy, of course, tucks herself into bed under her usual three layers of Pjs, and an idle imagination that wanders around with a certain -other- blonde Asgardian.

"So, how're your friends?" She asks as casually as she can the next morning, as she helps Thor heat up a cup of noodles with one of Jane's lasers, "Lady Sif and The Warriors Three, yeah? They didn't come with?"

"You have a good memory!" Thor praises her, eying the styrofoam cup she'd heated in under five seconds warily. Darcy laughs, shaking her head as she hands it to him.

"Well, yeah, but we've also been doing our homework," She points to the stack of worn old books Erik had given both her and Jane that past Hanukkah, on their perpetual home by the lab sofa. Sometimes, when they needed breaks from the numbers and the tech, one or both of them would curl up in the throw blanket with a cup of cocoa, and read some myths. Thor's smile goes warm, when he sees this.

"Much of that is from an altered perspective, but yes, Erik Selvig showed me that we're all in there," He shrugs, sipping his soup, "And I saw no need to drag my friends through an unstable portal of light with me. They fare well though!"

"S'good...I uh, kinda made friends with your homeboy Fandral, is all..." But Thor was already eying her slyly. Dumb blonde my ass, Darcy thinks.

"He mentioned. You'd not be the first maid he's used his charms on, and I dare say, likely not the last," Thor tells her, before quickly back-peddling, after the look on her face, "Not that your beauty would be easily passed over! Your figure would be quite appreciated in Asgard," And of course, because he's Thor, that comes across as the purest of compliments, "No, I simply meant that Fandral's nature is as such. He cannot resist a lovely face, I am not surprised he liked yours."

"...So he's kind of a player." Darcy deduces, trying not to acknowledge the twinge of disappointment in her gut. At Thor's perplexed expression, she elaborates, "Womanizer, Lady's man..." He nods slowly, in understanding.

"Ahh, it now makes sense, why Hawkeye calls Tony Stark as such," Thor muses, "And yes, you could say so, although Fandral is only successful in his pursuits perhaps half of the time," He grins, "And he would defend his actions as being those of a hopeless romantic." This time, Darcy can't help the droop to her shoulders. Not that, yanno, she was the type to look down on people for liking the chase, do as thou wilt and all. They just weren't the kind of guys she could ever be into. She'd been through that phase, it had lasted all of two months in college. Darcy wasn't cut out for one-nighters...though, if it was just a hot, passing god? Maybe. Fandral, though, they'd more than likely be seeing a lot of in the future, if this SHIELD thing and Thor thing all worked out. Darcy sucked at dealing with one night stands more than once.

"...You are disappointed." Thor points out, breaking her out of her musing. She winces.

"...Okay yeah, a little," She admits, giving the big guy a grin, "It's not every day us modern human gals get our hands kissed by dashing gods from space, so, that kinda thing sticks with you. Case in point, your naked, snoring Midgardian girlfriend." Thor laughs, yanking her in for a hug.

"Darcy, I dearly love my friend Fandral, but there are a hundred knights of Asgard whom I could introduce you to, who'd fall gladly at your feet, and would not be such ah, 'players'," He tries out the word, and it is adorable. "So do not feel so low!"

She grins wide, cause who could help it, after getting bear-hugged by Thor? "Can do, big guy. You're all right. I think I'll let you keep screwing Jane. Just get me a hot boyfriend."

His laugh totally wakes up Jane in the next room, and perhaps all of Norway, too.

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It's barely a week later, though, that Loki lashes out with an army of Dark Elves at his back, and an Elven King no doubt holding his leash this time. "How did he bust out of prison?!" Jane shouts, as things start breaking around them. But catching a glimpse of him, Darcy bets there's a charmed guard somewhere in Asgard, looking dazed and confused. Loki might be insane, but he is a looker.

And he wants Jane's portal, and probably Jane as well, as she'd be a handy way of getting back at his brother. Why self-defense 101 isn't prerequisite to becoming a superhero's girlfriend, Darcy will never know. But while the battle goes on outside between Thor, Sif plus the Warrior's Three, a couple of other Avengers, and a whole lot of elves, she's teaching Jane how to shoot a gun, and the basics of defensive hand-to-hand combat. "Don't look so surprised, my dad was a Navy SEAL," Darcy grins, adjusting Jane's grip on her Glock.

That's when Mr. The Dashing showed up, in a flash of armor and a swoop of his cape. "Thor wanted one of us to come back and stand guard by his ladies," Fandral grinned, "We played rock, parchment and shears for it." Jane blinks in confusion, but Darcy can't help laughing.

"You remembered! Aw, that makes me feel good," She blurts out, before collecting herself, as he squints at the weapon in Jane's hand. "...Wanna help me make Thor's girlfriend less useless in combat, sword-jockey?" Darcy finds herself asking with a lofted brow. Fandral smiles wide, and Jane blanches.

"Gladly, Lady Darcy!"

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It sounds like a thready stalemate outside, the occasional explosion of thunder or arcane power rocking the underground lab. It's been hours now, and Jane is asleep on the couch, while Darcy and Fandral have set themselves by the ladder up to the outside hatch. The former is cleaning her gun, the latter with his sword across his knees, and both with their eyes trained above.

"Hard to tell how it's going up there, yeah?" Darcy notes, needlessly, putting her Glock back together with a trained hand. The Asgardian watches her closely as she does, rather fascinated by the process.

"Yes, but I stake my life on Thor," He grins wide, nodding to her gun, "An ingenious process, I did not know you were a soldier as well, Lady." Darcy snorts.

"Hardly, my dad was though," She grins, deftly sliding in the clip, "And he couldn't abide his girls not knowing how to fend off handsy men."

"Excellent thinking," He nods, and then, the inevitable smirk, leaning towards her a bit, "But really, would my advances be the kind you'd fend off, mm?" And yeah, he's ridiculously attractive, but Darcy just snorts.

"Maybe not with a -gun-, but don't flatter yourself, Dashing," She shakes her head, pointedly looking away, "I am well-aware that you are all kinds of ...man-wench." A vacant blink. Darcy sighs, "Love 'em and leave 'em, Robin Hood. Lothario, lady's man..."

"Ahhhh...I have had my share of conquests, yes," Fandral shrugs, still grinning, "They've been pleasant all around, and you're very beautiful, Lady Darcy..."

"...Well, thanks, for that" She clears her throat, her eloquence failing her for a moment. But never let it be said that Darcy Lewis was easily dissuaded, "Buuuut I'm also Jane Foster's assistant, and Jane is funded by SHIELD, who calls on Thor, who's your buddy, so this is a vaguely professional relationship," She waves a finger between the two of them, "And I suck at having to see guys who've just used me for a quick lay in the office again, so..."

"Ugh, you make it sound so base," The warrior cringes, and Darcy feels a little pang at that, guilty, "I may breeze through lovers, Lady, but that does not mean I -use- them," He grins again, "I enjoy the chase, enjoy the romancing, and certainly enjoy how different each and every maid has been. I even enjoy some of the rebuttals..." He admits, and Darcy snickers.

"You'd have to, if your success rate is what Thor figures," She winks, as he narrows his eyes, good-naturedly, "And all right, and that's fine, you're a good-lookin' god, have at it. Just...not at me, please," She lifts her chin, eyes on Jane again. "Not my thing." The silence at her side is mind-boggled and perplexed, she can feel it coming off of the man in waves.

"...I admit, when I am refused, there is generally a slap that accompanies it," He notes, at length, after another crack of thunder rocks the bunker. Gripping her gun, Darcy chuckles.

"Y'are what y'are, good-lookin', just not my type." She shrugs, as silence follows above. Fandral downright frowns, thoughtfully, at that.

"Hmm, I suppose so..." He looks down at his sword for a long minute, brow creasing, and Darcy licks her lips.

"...Hey, rock, paper, scissors, to see who gets to go up and see if they're done hurling magic?"

"...I accept your challenge!"

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	2. A Chicken With Its Head Cut Off

((After seeing Item 47, clearly Claire and Darcy need to meet and become the best of friends. This is quite short for me, but I really wanted the next scenes to be from a different POV, so cutting it off at an annoying cliffhanger worked best. And is also vaguely evil! Because if I cannot drench a thing in angst, at least I can still be evil. I went to the Joss Whedon school of toying with people.))

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**Chapter 2**

A Chicken With Its Head Cut Off

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There's something to be said about a man who's at least persistent.

It's five months later, and Darcy's living in the city that never sleeps, cherry-picked out of Jane's labs as soon as she finished her degree. There's only so many things SHIELD can do about a poli-sci major who knows too much, and she's glad they opted for 'well, she is a military brat and she did shoot Malekith in the chest, let's see how she survives training'. Instead of the classic 'let's make her disappear' option. She's pretty sure they'd have never convinced Thor and Jane to stay on board, though, if that had happened. Darcy is fine with being an emotional pawn.

On the day it's raining Doombots and the cavalry is called on, Darcy's the person Fandral makes a b-line for. Crouched behind a tumbled car outside of headquarters, gun drawn, she notes the appreciative once-over. "They've put you in their armor!" He notes, approvingly, and Darcy can't help laughing as she pops up and lets loose another round at a Doombot's head. She might not be the most impressive figure to ever put on a SHIELD catsuit and bullet-proof vest, but her aim is sound. Daddy didn't raise no poor shot.

"Total coincidence that I was wearing it today, I just completed training this morning," She calls back, watching him neatly decapitate the bot coming up behind them. "I'm technically still working behind a desk!" Another pop-pop-pop of gunfire, and the two metal monstrosities in front of her fall. Finally getting a breather, she and Fandral pause by the wrecked car, grinning. "And hey, sup, long time no see, Errol."

"Hello!" He chuckles, nodding to the carnage, "You seem to be doing quite well, Lady Darcy."

"Seriously, just Darcy," She smirks, taking advantage of the pause in the violence to tie her hair back from her face. "And I'm still alive, yeah! Your boy Thor keeps us in nasty monsters to kill..." On cue, Tony Stark flies by overhead, a metal man grappling with a metal man. Darcy helps him out with a bullet to the Doombot's head. Fandral grins wide.

"Remind me again, -Darcy-, why we aren't lovers?" He asks with a sigh, watching her. And gods-damnit, if the accent and the way he says 'lovers' doesn't weaken her knees just a bit. But Darcy shakes her head, smirking.

"Mmm, well, how many women have you boinked since the last time you were here?" She quirks a brow. The warrior opens his mouth to reply, and finds himself with no defenses, and a wry young woman grinning up at him in triumph. "...There's your answer, Mr. The Dashing."

"...I come with fine references?" He tries with that persistent smile, shrugging. Darcy groans, leaning forward and resting her forehead on one of his pauldrons, shaking her head.

"One of these days," She chuckles against his shoulder armor, "When the sky isn't falling, you should come by Stark Tower, we'll steal Tony's giant television, and I'll introduce you to Barney Stinson. Cause you might be hot, man, but your lines need some serious work."

"...So, you're admitting that you DO find me attractive, yes?" Fandral maintains, and Darcy snorts... but then bites her lip, looking up at him, realizing just how earnest the man was under all of that swagger and pomp. Right as Thor swoops in, and sends a bolt of lightening down the street. The one full of oncoming Doombots, that Darcy and Fandral had totally missed because, well, each other's eyes were quite nice.

"Start thinking with your proper sword," Hogun grunts to his brother in arms as he hurries past, leaping over their tumbled car. Darcy clears her throat, reloading her gun and following suit. Fandral lets out a long sigh, drawing his sword again and charging into the fray.

"We really need to stop meeting like this, my lady!"

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There are actually a lot of things for the Avengers and SHIELD to handle, which Darcy becomes ever more aware of as she speeds up through the ranks. There's whispering around the office, that she's either screwing someone or making real bank on her friendships with Thor and Jane Foster. But folks like Nick Fury, Agents Sitwell, Coulson and Hill don't promote just anyone, even if they were forced to give them a shot. Darcy's good, and it isn't too long after the Doombots and acing her physical that she finds herself in the upper tier of analysts, working on the helicarrier, where she gets a front row seat to all the violence most of the ground gets spared.

When she happens to notice a random sensor going off, one that's always idly scanning for alien tech, she earns some respect from most of the gossips for acting fast. Darcy's just able to alert someone above her, five minutes before aliens are crawling all over the flying fortress and guns are going off all over the place.

"How do you notice these things?" Agent Pollock (the girl one, not her husband, who works in R&D) asks in a groan, when Darcy comes to visit her in the helicarrier's infirmary later that day. They've become friends lately, since Darcy's clearance went up. Which is nice, because between a wormhole generator that everyone wants to get their hands on and Thor, Jane's been gone from her life a lot, and Darcy's kinda been lacking girl friendships.

"I just watch," Darcy takes Claire's hand, giving it a squeeze. "And sometimes I have dumb luck too I guess..."

"No, you're amazing," Claire grimaces, hitting her morphine drip again, "Seriously. You're not the one who tripped over her own damn heels and got herself impaled on the alien weaponry." Darcy snorts.

"True, but give the baddies time! Fury thinks this might've just been the recon, the real soldiers are yet to come." Thankfully, some folks more equipped were presently being Assembled to handle that eventuality. "I may end up in here with you yet, Agent Pollock."

"Not likely. You're fast like a freak."

"I'm something, anyway..."

Truth be told, Darcy didn't know what she was these days, but if a good agent was it, well, that was all right. Honestly, as much as she appreciated the job, the sweet apartment in an amazing city, and the -amazing- insurance plan, her life had been rocketing forward full-tilt and she'd just barely been able to keep up. Challenging work, feeling productive, and using her major helped, made her forget for a while that she was homesick for California (home) and Virginia (Culver, which had been home for so long). It made her miss Jane and her parents less often, to throw herself heart and soul into training, working, and observing.

Though, when she did get a break and went home, her apartment felt way too grown up, considering she'd been subsisting on ramen in frigid Norway less than a year ago. And going out, seeing a movie or hitting up the bar felt either too exhausting or even more isolating, considering how little she could really say about herself these days. And so after dinner, paperwork, and maybe an episode of Doctor Who, Darcy would often find herself just curled up on her own couch, rereading the books from Erik and missing her friends. It made the times when she did get to see Jane and/or Thor all the better. Darcy was pretty sure she was too spunky to ever become a Maria Hill, but it took seeing people she loved to remind her of that.

Which is why, an hour later, when the bulk of the invading aliens arrive at about the same time as the Avengers, Darcy's actually pretty happy and excited, unlike most sane agents. Last time, she'd gotten to tag along for post-battle, Avengers karaoke, though! And lo and behold, Thor's got his other set of faithful companions with him as well.

"Apparently, Tony Stark had plans to show us off at something called "Comic Con"." Sif explains, as the two of them find themselves back to back, picking off seven-foot tall, green lizard-folk on the bridge. Darcy laughs, her aim deft.

"Then this is actually a MUCH better way to be spending your weekend," Darcy assures the warrior woman, momentarily distracted by the fact that woah nelly, she's fighting alongside Sif! Darcy gets lost in being a fangirl for just long enough not to notice the alien thrusting out a barbed lance, aimed straight for her torso.

Until she hears her name shouted, and another armored Asgardian slams into her, knocking her to the ground, and taking the lance in his side.

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	3. I Think I Need A New Heart

((As I'm not really into Tasertricks (unless it's a gloriously-written salad of angst that makes me want to curl up and die!), and there's so little Fancy-fic out there, I haven't really experienced many 'Darcy Goes To Asgard' cliches, if there are any. So if any sneaked in, my deepest apologies!

Also, as a couple of readers seem unaware, Fandral in the comics is indeed very, very much a ladies man. He fights in battles, he cracks jokes, he gets laid. It's wut he do. So this characterization is no invention of mine ;) I haven't read as many Thor comics as other heroes', but I do recall that some of my favorite bits for him were when this lifestyle finally comes up and bites him in the ass, and he realizes how many people he's hurt. So there's that!))

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**Chapter 3**

I Think I Need A New Heart

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She's the first thing he sees, when he opens his eyes. She'd been the last as well, when his vision was failing and she and Sif had dragged him away from the fighting. It had been Darcy's hands on his face, calling his name as he drifted away. And now Fandral wakes to her, the light seeping into his eyes all golden and hazy. He thinks for a moment that he must be in Valhalla, but no, the view from the windows is Asgard. In fact, it's his usual view from the Tower of the Healers. Fandral knows this room well.

Her hair is long and loose around her shoulders, as she reads the book in her lap at his bedside, not yet aware that he's awake. It is strange, seeing her outside of the often (in his opinion) unflattering clothes of Midgard, and garbed simply in a long, gray-blue tunic and leggings, in a style slightly above a commoner. Perhaps quite fitting though, for a soldier visiting from a very different realm. The color suits her, matching her eyes as she's back-lit by a rising sun, and she's still wearing the small compass pendant she always wears. He's noticed, flippant as he comes across. She's fiddling with it nervously now, biting her lip, eyes fixed unseeing upon the open page.

"Concerned, my lady?" He's surprised at how rough his own voice sounds. How long has it been since he's used it? Darcy looks up sharply, those large blue eyes of hers gone wide, just before her lips part in a smile. Oh, this stirs something in him, Fandral notes...he also notes that just about every inch of him hurts like all the legends of hell combined. "...Gods, what manner of beastly weapons did they possess?"

"Hi to you too," Darcy murmurs, reaching for his hand. Her face is schooled and calm again, but the grip on his fingers is telling and tight. "That particular lance was both barbed and poisoned," She smirks, "Only one in their arsenal that was, far as we can tell. You're one lucky Asgardian, you got the hidden prize in the box."

"I always did possess singular luck!" He tries, and fails to sit up, pins and needles everywhere, "...How long have I been abed?"

"Three days," Darcy clears her throat, looking down. "Your armor took a big chunk of the damage, and your healers are awesome here, but it still took them...and us, a while to figure out where the poison came from. And, yanno," She smirks, looking back at him from under her lashes, "...The barbs that did get through kinda tore up your insides."

"More scars well-earned..." Fandral winces when he tries to shrug. Perhaps moving is overrated, at this juncture, "Were you injured?"

"Nope, thanks to you," Her grip on his hand tightens again, even as her tone is light and airy, "Your armor did bruise me up a little," She smirks, "But we saved the day..." Her voice matches her grip and her eyes, then, when she licks her lips and tells him, "...Thank you." Fandral finds himself waving a hand.

"It is what any knight would do...for a brother in arms." He clears his throat, noting that she smiles wide and happily at the title. Normally, he'd be milking this situation for all it's worth. And he's certainly been here before, recovering from battle while some pretty maid wept at his bedside. But Darcy is nothing like those who'd fawned before. She's no Lady Sif, but she is brave in battle, and grateful, and he cannot quite imagine her ever fawning. Fandral is finding it a far lovelier thing to waken to. And that's scaring him a little.

Though, nowhere near as scary as what's waiting for him outside the doors to his healing room, apparently. He notes a scuffle and cacophony of voices, all female, and pales a little. Darcy smirks, "Oh, yeah, so I guess this is worse than you've been hurt for a while now?" She bites her lip around a grin, "You uh, have some fangirls outside. Who are kind of pissed that I'm the only gal, 'sides Sif, who's been allowed in." Fandral lets out a long groan.

"How delightful..." He winces. The ruckus goes quiet for a moment, dissolving into murmurs of 'My Prince', just before the door opens to first admit Jane Foster, and then Thor, who closes it firmly behind him.

"You're awake!" He booms, grinning broadly, and Fandral barely manages a proper salute to his Prince, "I'm gladder than I can express, my friend. As ever, we are in your debt, for saving my Lady's companion, and my dear friend as well."

"Hell yes we are," Lady Jane Foster, dressed far nicer than her former assistant (though she -is- the consort of the Prince, and as such -should- be garbed in silks and gems, Fandral surmises), wraps up Darcy in a tight embrace, "I should have pitched a fit at SHIELD, back when you graduated, until they let me keep you safe in my labs..."

"You mean the same labs we defended at gun-point, a year ago?" Darcy chuckles, letting go of Fandral's hand to hug her back, much to his dismay, "I love my job. But I appreciate the concern, bosslady."

"We'd come to gather you for the negotiations, Darcy," Thor says, after giving poor Fandral a crushing hug himself. Ahh, his Prince, ever oblivious, for all his cunning in battle. "Now that Jane has arrived in Asgard."

"Negotiations?" Fandral lofts a brow, interested. Darcy grins at him, and good gods, when she wasn't looking at him as if he were the incorrigible lout he knows he is, it made his heart twist.

"Yeah, apparently it's about time to make Earth's sexy relationship with Asgard a bit more official," She says, leaving her book and smoothing her skirts, shaking out all that long, wavy hair as she stands straight, "I'm observing and transcribing. Fury and your King, it's gonna be an epic standoff of impaired vision!"

"Darcy!" Jane hisses, but Thor just laughs, long and loud.

"I'd not thought of that! Eye-patches all around!"

"You'll return, though?" Fandral finds himself asking, perhaps a bit too earnestly. Thor's laughing tapers off, and his eyes narrow sharply at the warrior. Oh dear. Darcy, however, just smiles again, touching his hand, her wide, long sleeves brushing his skin.

"Sure thing, Robin Hood. And I'll ah..." She nods to the door, where the chattering has started up again, "...See if your healer can give you something to induce sleep for a little longer."

"...It would be appreciated..."

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Darcy knows that it's a wretchedly tired cliché, but she really does feel more at home than she has in months, even if she is in an alien realm. Jane and Erik are here too, and Thor obviously, and instead of her usual feeling back on the carrier (of worrying that, despite how well she's done, she's still kind of a Red-Shirt), she's actually helping to change the world in a manner closer to what she'd intended back at school, toying with journalism, and then law. Though honestly, Darcy does still really enjoy the shooting-bad-guys-part, guilty as charged.

The stage might be staggeringly beautiful and the implications mind-boggling, but once she gets accustomed to how gorgeous everything in Asgard is, she's Darcy again, doing important busywork for her pals Jane and Erik. Jane's not only present in the Throne Room of Asgard as Odin's potential daughter-in-law either, she and Erik are here to fully explain the pathway she's opened to the stars, and what it means to the rebuilding of the Bifrost. Fury and Agent Hill are present as the obvious envoys of SHIELD. Cause when you're treating with the All-Father, you don't send anyone but the boss.

Darcy, meanwhile, is off to the side as soon as the formal greetings are done, opening her laptop as the important people begin talks at the lengthy, golden table set for them. It isn't long before she's got ten files open at any given time, bringing up facts for Jane about her generator, or Asgardian protocol for Fury and Hill. They're then scribbled on notes that she slides to them discreetly, so they needn't appear rude or unprepared under Odin's steady gaze.

It's Darcy's favorite kind of work, and it requires all her attention, though she does note how Maria Hill looks near mutinous now and then, picking fretfully at her dress. Her tunic is shorter and darker than Darcy's and she's been permitted to carry her gun, but apparently it's still too much 'dress' for the lifer Agent. Darcy grins to herself, wondering how long it'll take for the woman to crack and ask for ceremonial armor to wear when she visits, like Sif's, which Darcy's seen her eying enviously.

Talks go well, and also manage to keep Darcy's hands and mind busy enough that she doesn't dwell too much on the handsome rake who saved her life. She's definitely not thinking about how he'd looked at her when he woke up, how his smiles had changed, shifted, softened...it was probably the drugs, she maintains stubbornly in her head. Darcy forces herself to recall the groupies hanging by his door, and finds she's able to focus on work again.

...He had taken a lance in the side for her, though. That didn't mean -nothing-...

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"Everything go well?" Fandral asks of his friend, when Thor returns to his bedside long before Darcy does.

"Excellent," Thor assures him, crossing the room in great strides, and Fandral becomes aware of the harshness in his Prince's eyes, drawing back against the pillows when he does, "Cease using your wiles on Lady Darcy, friend." Thor tells him, not unkindly, but certainly firmly. "I've humored your pursuits before, as it is often a fine spectacle of watching your merry chases backfire on you," Thor smirks, humorlessly, "But Darcy is dear to Jane, and to me. She is human, a fighter, and different than your scheming, flighty court followers. Treat her as you would Sif, Jane, or my Lady cousins."

Wincing, Fandral shoves himself up to sit, doubling over slightly as his muscles protest. The stinging traces of venom linger, though they are processing out of his system, just slowly. Thor frowns, resting a hand on his shoulder, but Fandral shakes his head, "I know that she is different, friend." He sighs, looking the Prince in the eye, "Which makes her far lovelier, here...and she is quite immune to my merry chase, I assure you. Have no fear."

"Perhaps not entirely immune," Thor lets slip, sternly, "She is grateful to you, as she surely should be, we all are, you acted most nobly. But should you -use- that, as I've so often seen you do..." That smile Fandral knows so well is on Thor's face then, the one that usually comes right before something ends up dead, or at least maimed, "...I shall personally break both of your legs." Fandral narrows his eyes.

"Well-said." A beat, the two men eying each other, "...I do like her though, Thor." Another beat. And then he's getting his shoulder clasped, more gently.

"Prove to me that it is more than a passing fancy, and perhaps I shall spare those limbs."

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Darcy has to hand it to the guy, he hasn't been feeding her his usual lines since the incident. Her more airy humor wants to chock it all up to the poison, but it's seeping out of him by the hour, leaving a Fandral who just wants her to crack jokes or read to him, when she does get a break from negotiations. On her last day in Asgard, he's well enough to walk and to return to his own chambers, though the healers expressly forbid him from donning his armor yet. He grumbles, but as soon as he's dressed and stands, he finds himself having to lean heavily on Darcy's shoulder. She's all right with this, she finds.

"Volstagg threw out a red herring, don't worry," She grins as they leave the tower, and he casts a skittish look left and right, "He bellowed after negotiations today, that he was off to throw you a welcome-back feast." Fandral grins wide.

"Yes that should keep the courtiers busy long enough to see me home, at least." He sighs, hand still on her shoulder, as he steers her over the bridges and byways of the palace. Down below, the roads are peppered with the traffic of immortals, but up here it's mostly just the two of them, and the occasional healer or page. It's all lit up by the sunset too, which makes it all the more beautiful, and Darcy sighs almost longingly. It'll be hard to go back to the City after this.

"Why would you ever want to leave?" She grins. On top of the beauty of the place, it's a realm that, for the most part, had reached a kind of social enlightenment centuries ago. Sure bad things still happened, as Loki could attest. But on the whole, it had been a long, long time since the Asgardians had been unhappy with their home, their king.

"Mmm, peace can be a bore to a true warrior, I suppose," Fandral admits, even as he breathes deep and gratefully of the evening air, "Always seeking out conflict. I am glad of the fact though, that my home is at peace with itself, that I might come back to its comforts and more quiet diversions..." He snorts, "Though, I'll be more than ready for a bout as soon as they let me back into my armor." Darcy laughs.

"Eh, I get that, I like being busy too..." She nods, "...And I've kinda become a junkie for a firefight, guilty. Dad'll be so proud, finally I'm the son he never had." This time he's the one who laughs, the sound loud and pleasantly echoing off of the gleaming walls. It's a warm sound, and Darcy really does like it.

"Ahh, you'll be Sif's favorite yet," He sighs, as they approach his terrace. Forgoing the indoors, he leads her toward the wide balcony over-looking the city, the ruins of the Bifrost, and the swirling universe beyond. Darcy makes sure he settles on one of the lounges, tossing a blanket over those fine Asgard threads of his.

"I'd love to be Sif's favorite, in fact I kind of want to -be- her, when I grow up," She admits, grinning and taking a seat on the very opposite edge of the lounge, sighing as she looks out on the view. It's gorgeous, and no mistake.

"...My Lady," Fandral starts, reaching for her hand, and Darcy shuts her eyes tight, steeling herself. It was too much to hope, that he'd given up on his pursuit and had decided to just be buddies. "You depart for Midgard tomorrow, and though this position with your SHIELD might have you traveling here often, I'd still not have you leave without telling you..."

"Don't," She holds up her free hand, "You don't...you can't -mean- it, Fandral..." She tries to tell him, but that only makes him frown.

"You doubt my affections?" He quirks a long, blonde brow, "I...I mightn't have thought over the action much, before throwing myself in harm's way for you, but it wasn't simply to impress and then bed you," He clears his throat, and Darcy has to bite her lip hard, because seriously, this guy and his Shakespeare in The Park. "...No, the thought of you being harmed was simply far more than I could bear."

"...And you'll always be way more than a friend to me, because of that," Darcy finds herself reaching out with a tentative hand, then, touching the place over the healing wound in his side, "But...to be something even more than that..."

"You are -singular-, Darcy," He tells her, almost urgently, meeting her gaze steadily, and she's almost done in, "Neither simpering maid nor hardened warrior, you are kind and sharp and beautiful..."

"...And can you promise me that your nature wouldn't still get bored, after a while?" She forces herself to ask, despite knowing that, for all her emotional armor, the answer would probably smart a little. And it does, as he presses his lips together, obviously wanting to protest, and knowing he can't. Darcy forces a smile, "...You're restless that way, all your friends say it. And if you'd met me a couple of years ago, I'd be all about a few fun weeks with a hot god I could laugh with, and maybe we'd even stay buddies after, but now..."

"...Now?" He prompts, and Darcy winces, blushing a little. But she's here, in this magical place, and with someone who's risked death for her. And if you can't be honest then, well...

"...It would've sounded stupid to me, a while back," She gives him a rueful grin, "...But then my universe kinda expanded, and I met all these people, and..." Darcy swallows, shutting her eyes, "...Now I want a love that would destroy the Bifrost to keep me safe," She licks her lips, and the god at her side lets out a long breath, nodding slowly, and she pushes on, "A love that would still dance with me, even if I were -suddenly- 70 years older than the last time he'd seen me. Who'd trust me to hold his heart in my hands, literally, the only one who really knew how he ticks...a love who'd trust that I could be something more than what I'd been told my whole life to be..." Darcy smirks, scuffing at her eyes with her sleeve, "...I want a love that would soothe a giant green rage monster."

"...That is a tall order indeed, my Lady," Fandral tells her, softly. Darcy nods, yet keeps her chin up, smiling a little.

"Maybe. But experience has taught me that fuckin' stranger things exist, man," That, at least, earns her a slow, appreciative grin in reply.

"True..." He's quiet, for a time, and Darcy plays with her cuffs, self-consciously, until he speaks again, "...While I am not yet sure if I can guarantee all that, I would, at least, enjoy one last night of your reading aloud to me." Darcy smirks.

"...Yet?"

"I am -very- persistent, Darcy." And oh, that smile. She shakes her head, grinning.

"All right, from my library or yours?"

"Mmmm, let's play for it, shall we?"

Paper ends up covering rock, and Darcy draws Harry Potter & The Sorcerers' Stone from her satchel, reading aloud, quietly, as a meteor shower decides to start falling over their heads.

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	4. I Don't Want To Get over You

((Oh Fandral...and yes, I kind of invented Asfrid, although she is based on a couple of people from both Norse mythology and Marvel canon. And you kind of need her kind of character, to drive some things home for our favorite chronic womanizer. It's odd, writing so much unabashed fluff! But good-odd, I enjoy it thoroughly!))

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Chapter 4

I Don't Want To Get Over You

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No one in Asgard is quite sure what's going on with Fandral the Dashing these days, and he's well aware of this.

A few days after the group from Midgard returned home, Fandral was more or less back to his old self, at least as far as his physical health was concerned. His mental health however...well. His friends awaited him at feast, and the ladies awaited him by the taverns, but the only place he could be found, now, was out in the training yards, when he wasn't cloistered at home or off riding. Fandral not seeking an audience to his every exploit was strange. He knew it would bring his dearest friends by eventually, though he didn't expect it to be so soon.

"Are you alive?!" Volstagg bellows, as he, Hogun, and Sif muscle their way through his front door. "We weren't sure!" They're greeted by the sight of their companion in the middle of his receiving room, the lounges and tables pushed aside and a wooden training dummy placed on the bare floor. It's hacked near to pieces, Fandral grinning their way, despite his disheveled, sweaty, exhausted appearance.

"Quite well!" He says brightly, even though they're looking at him as if he's gone half-mad. "...Thor isn't with you?"

"He's visiting Earth," Sif frowns, tilting her head, looking him over, "It is the Lady Jane's birthday, they are celebrating...Fandral..."

"Ah, right, yes, the -Prince- can come and go from Midgard as he pleases!" Fandral rolls his eyes, and then...realizes he's said this outloud. And that his friends are -looking- at him now. He clears his throat. "...Do -you- all think that I've got a short attention span?" Sif shuts her eyes, smirking, Volstagg laughs, and Hogun snorts.

"Come," The last says, moving toward his friend's cupboards, across from the roaring fireplace. "We are drinking. Here at home, away from other eyes."

"Mmm, you might be grim Hogun, but you're most perceptive..." Sif agrees, taking steins down from the shelves as Fandral sighs in defeat, tossing his beat-up training sword aside with a clatter. Volstagg slaps his shoulder, hard.

"...I'll call up for a boar or two!"

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Jane's birthday is celebrated at a hole in the wall tavern in Brooklyn, per Steve Rogers' hunting, after Darcy's suggestion to him. For as much as people might think Jane and Thor are a case of opposites attracting, Darcy knows better. When it comes to Earth, anyway, Thor doesn't much like pomp or extravagance, and he's always sported a deep distaste for pretension. Jane is the same way. She's one of the prettiest people Darcy knows too, but even on her birthday, it's pulling teeth to get her in a dress, and even then, it's comfy cotton off the rack from Old Navy.

Needless to say, Tony Stark is appalled.

"Really, Lewis? Rogers?" The billionaire sighs, as Clint and Erik start playing darts, Natasha feeding coins into the jukebox, "I could've booked us a whole floor somewhere, wine, food..." He trails off, wrinkling his nose as Pepper starts digging into a pile of cheesy fries with giddy enthusiasm. Jane laughs, hugging her former lab-monkey.

"Never, Darcy knows me way too well to throw me a birthday party anywhere else but a dive," She beams, kissing Darcy's cheek, "And man, once you've been to Asgard in silks and jewels, everything down here is kind of pale in comparison. Even -your- swag." Tony harrumphs. And then orders himself the oldest scotch in the bar which, eventually, has him singing karaoke along with everyone else.

Claire and her husband are there too, and as Coulson starts crooning some Sinatra, Darcy leans on her new friend, watching Jane and her big ol' hunk of Asgardian manliness slow dance. "Look at those kids, won'tchya?" She sighs. Claire smirks.

"So why don't -you- ever date, mm?" The agent, recently cleared by medical asks, nursing her beer.

"Yeah, I mean, I know some guys in R&D who've been asking about you," Bennie grins, but Darcy just shakes her head.

"Naaaah, I can't date someone from SHIELD. And I'm too busy anyway," Darcy shrugs, but Claire narrows her eyes.

"...Not too busy for the guy who took that spear for you though?" She lifts a brow. Thankfully, Thor chooses that moment to go to one knee, as Natasha and her bluesy croon busts out Unchained Melody, and Jane starts flailing and tearing up. If she were completely honest with herself, Darcy would admit that the lump in her throat wasn't entirely from being overjoyed at her best friend's engagement. Though it was most of it, let no one accuse her of being a self-centered friend!

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The halls of Asgard are preparing for the feast to celebrate Thor's engagement, as they have been for days now. In the past, Fandral might have found himself taking full advantage of the fact that nearly all the fair ladies of his realm are simply overwhelmed at the romance of it all, of the mortal who captured their Prince's heart, who'll soon take her own place among the immortals. Even Sif couldn't deny that it made an excellent tale, let alone how happy they all were for their friend. There was more swooning than ever going on, and Fandral wasn't anywhere near the thick of it.

Still cloistering himself, though now with his friends' understanding, the warrior finds himself left to his solitude. Today, he's hiding in the palace library of all places, mostly to avoid the throngs welcoming Thor home, but he's also looking for more interesting tales to give to Darcy. She'll be there, for the feasting, and for a treating with Alfheimr later on. He's not given up on her, pining as he is, though now he's at a loss at how to impress her. More than that, though, Fandral is at a loss as to what his own nature is, these days.

What he does know for sure, though, is that what he feels for the mortal is more than passing, more than attraction. And this is new. And vaguely frightening.

"Fandral," A voice murmurs behind him, familiar and warm, and he turns from the shelves of romantic tales swiftly, a wide grin in place.

"Asfrid," He bows to the lithe, pale-haired figure, draped in gold-colored fabric and balancing a baby, almost a year old, on her hip. It's still strange for Fandral, seeing his friend Hogun's facial features on such a decidedly not-grim little boy, but there they are, in that near-toothless smile.

"My lover has mentioned you've been hiding yourself away," She smirks, and the man sighs, shaking his head.

"Never as silent as he seems, your man."

"Not with me, no," Asfrid nods, eyes twinkling in her deceptively child-like face. And Fandral deflates a little more, realizing that this is someone he might also get an honest answer from, and so...

"Asfrid, am I hopeless?"

The lovely Asgardian snorts. "Perhaps," She allows, moving to settle in one of the plush, soft couches among the shelves of tales, histories, epic romances. Fandral sighs yet again, and follows, sitting down across from her. As she bounces the dark-haired baby on her knee, her eyes narrow, looking him over, "...You do have the look I had," She says at length, smirking, "When you grew tired of my company, long ago. Lovesick and pining."

"I did not know," He says, automatically, scrubbing a hand over his face, "I did not realize, how different you were, that you were still...were not one of the more..." Words fail him, but Asfrid just shakes her head.

"It is centuries past, now," She shrugs...and then smirks, wickedly, "Though it does please me a little, to see you tortured so," Fandral chuckles, and she tilts her head, looking on him fondly now, if honestly, "...I was not the first nor the last though, I wager, who wasn't a seasoned courtier, but simply a maiden fresh at court, thinking that Fandral the Dashing loved her." He winces.

"No, you were the last, at least," He clears his throat, "I...learned to see it, in their eyes, if they'd never been with a man, nor had the designs on us that so many do..." Asfrid nods at that, pleased.

"Good. Though, you know..." She smirks again, "If you actually paid attention?" He looks at her, raising a brow, "...The court followers don't stay forever either, Fandral," She tells him, "Oh they come of age, they have their fun, maybe they grow attached to you in their way, but they're over you as fast as you are of them. And then you know what?"

"What?" He gulps.

"...They grow up," She giggles, and Hogun's son echoes the sound, "They cease the revelry after a century or two, and they marry, or become ladies of means who keep their lovers for years and years, and they're the women I see out with their children, eventually, as I am out with mine." Fandral nods, slowly, and she almost doesn't need to voice the obvious, but does anyway, "And then there's you. Unable to settle, and yet also set in your ways."

"...You say things clearly," He murmurs, staring at the child on her knee, unseeing, "...Perhaps moreso than my closest companions..."

"It's because I know you in a way they won't ever," She winks, "...And Love is not a thing to fear, Fandral."

"...I didn't even know that I did, until her," He admits, smirking.

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A week later, Darcy, Jane, and Erik (acting as father figure, because once everything became official, a switch flipped and he went from old family friend to I'm-giving-you-away,-young-lady-mode) return to Asgard with much pomp and circumstance. Darcy will be observing and taking notes the following day, when Odin goes to treat with the leaders of Alfheimr, and so she thinks the fun can only last for so long for her, but damnit, she's gonna party it up with the Asgardians like there -is no- tomorrow. She doesn't even bother to pack many clothes, and sure enough, the room she's sharing with Jane is already stocked.

She's pretty sure she wrote this brand of Lord Of The Rings fanfic in high school, but long-ago in Jane's relationship with Thor, Darcy trained herself not to question the fabulous things that happen. Just put on the pretty elf clothes, she tells herself, because it won't be long before you're back in New York, tailoring a Lane Bryant blouse to fit your huge boobs and tiny waist. As Jane's future maid of honor, she gets to wear the snazzy stuff tonight, all long, blue and silky. Tomorrow it'll be back to the grunt garb, and Darcy almost looks forward to it. She's not Jane, she appreciates a pretty thing. It's just her ability to pull off the sort of things that Jane naturally looks like a goddess in, that Darcy questions. And so she just throws on the silk without looking, lets her hair go loose, and follows her former boss out the door, where Thor's waiting.

"You both look lovely!" Thor exclaims, though obviously, his eyes are mostly on Jane and her diadems and shimmering dress. Still, Darcy will take it. "And do not be nervous, I've rarely seen my parents as happy as they are this night, the celebrations will go on for days!"

"Even though we're heading to Alfheimr tomorrow?" Darcy cocks a brow, and Thor nods to her, grinning.

"A brief break in the festivities, it should not be long. We've been friends with their realm for many long years, little will go ill, a fine learning experience for you and little more, I expect. I'd not be surprised if some come back with us to feast, in fact!" Judging by her luck, though, Darcy would question that mightily, "Myself, Sif, and The Warriors Three shall be accompanying you on the visit, by the by!"

"Oh, cool," She clears her throat, "So ah, how's Fandral been? You know, after the whole, saving my life thing, and all..." Smooth, Lewis.

"Fandral is well!" Thor assures her, as Jane gives her the side-eye, not fooled, "Ah, his wounds have healed properly, anyway. As for the man himself, well," Thor smirks then, "He's been quite reclusive! Sparing time only for sparring and the libraries. Our friends tell me he's been avoiding the company of the ladies as much as possible as well..."

"Goodness, perhaps he's sick," Jane feigns astonishment, as Darcy feels her face going red. Thor laughs, long and loud.

"Oh according to Lady Sif, he's sick all right." He sighs, happily. "Love sick. I may not have to break his legs after all..."

Darcy decides not to ask. "Say, look at that moon! That's a real nice moon...and there's more moons!"

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She could definitely get used to feasting. There's just about every kind of dead animal on the tables, and things done with squashes Darcy would've never imagined. And while the ale and mead are great and she's had them before, a goblet of the wine they roll out for a Prince's engagement feast would fuck up even Steve Rogers. Darcy sips slowly and still finds her head going light, and on a full stomach of pheasant and stuffing, too. Pheasant, who knew?! Probably only the handful of people on Earth who still ate pheasant.

Jane is a hit, of course. Even on another planet, the story of an ordinary, albeit brilliant mortal having a Prince fall for her is touching. Frigga is unabashed enough in her kindness and appreciation of the woman, and Darcy is able to tell that even the stoic, grim Odin is pleased with her as well. He values her intelligence and strength, that eye of his piercing through the surface of all things. Darcy's glad...but she also always tries to be looking at something else, when he glances at her. She wonders if the Allfather can tell just by looking, what a fumbling thing she is underneath.

Fandral isn't anywhere to be seen for most of the night, which is disappointing. Darcy's not even trying to lie anymore at this point, she really does like him. She's still got her armor up, yes, but she likes him, and his stupid swagger. It isn't until she's on the dance floor, having a turn with Thor, that he finally slips into the festivities, tapping his friend on the shoulder. After a hard stare, Thor cracks a smirk, handing her over with a twirl of her dark blue skirts. Ah, Asgardian men...

"Where've you been hiding all evening, mm?" Darcy asks with a smile, shoving down the tingle in her spine, over the look he gives her, caught up in the sight of her in a dress, before wrapping an arm around her waist, tugging her close, "...Ah-also, b-be warned, I fail at dancing. Thor was going easy on me."

"It's all turning in circles," He laughs, demonstrating. Darcy's good at following and mimicking, at least. "...You look lovely tonight, Lady."

"Only because I'm not standing next to Jane," She replies automatically, but knows her eyes are giving away how pleased she is, as they move. "...So uh, you haven't answered my question..."

"Oh," He takes a deep breath, giving her a spin. Darcy manages to keep track of her steps and not fall. Bless Asgard for not believing in high heels. "...I've been lurking on the edges all eve'. Watching," That dazzling grin of his makes an appearance, and yet it's touched with some kind of seriousness around the eyes, that Darcy doesn't miss, "...I somewhat wanted to make a statement, as well."

"Oh?" Darcy smirks, as he tugs her close again. The warrior nods, eyes meeting hers.

"That regardless of your response, I came out of hiding only for you," He tells her, simply, "And all eyes have seen that."

Darcy gulps, glancing around. Yes, Thor and Jane are both watching, as are Hogun, Sif, a golden maiden at Hogun's side, and Volstagg, all with knowing smiles. Even Frigga is pausing in her wine and friends, giving Fandral a pleased look. And there are a few clusters of women here and there, either pouting or looking mutinous. Or just curious.

"...Oh," She clears her throat, eyes flickering up to his face again, meeting his gaze this time, steadily, as a slow smile spreads over her lips, "...Well then, Mr. The Dashing. I think you've earned yourself a few more dances with the stupid-footed Midgardian chick." She gets perhaps his most brilliant smile in reply.

They do indeed spend most of the night dancing, Darcy getting better with each new song, and each fresh cup of ale (no more wine...not tonight, anyway). They talk of what they've been reading, and doing since they last met, and when the sun is coming up and the feast is still going full-tilt, he carries her, asleep, back to her and Jane's apartments.

And the next day, when Alfheimr starts exploding during their visit, Fandral earns himself a bit more than an evening of dancing.

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	5. All My Little Words

((Oh The Magnetic Fields. How I adore you. Also, in my head, Alfheimr looks like Rivendell meets Bathmora, in its full glory (Tolkien did base his elves off of those of Alfheimr and Norse Mythology in general). Only, yanno. With the outer-space-twist Asgard got. This tale isn't as long as my others, there's one more chapter after this one. But never fear, these two will have their one-shots/other fics from me. The Fancy library must be far more extensive.))

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Chapter 5

All My Little Words

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It's right about the time when dragons start breathing fire all over the leafy, capital city of Alfheimr, when Darcy starts getting pissed that she'd had to leave her gun at home. They've arrived in the realm of Light Elves just in time for an invasion by their somewhat...less-Light brethren. Darcy's faced these guys before, yes, but that time, she'd been on her own planet, they'd seen the Dark Elves coming, and she'd had a -gun-.

At least she's wearing something she can run in, though her tunic and leggings don't offer much in the way of actual protection. Still, when Fandral leaps in front of her, sword-drawn and ready to defend her all the way to the fortified inner palace, Darcy shakes her head, "I appreciate it, Errol, but dad would never let me live down being the damsel!" Fandral rolls his eyes, even as they dodge out of the way of a black dragon's flames.

"Are you hiding weaponry and armor under there that I cannot see, my Lady?" He gives her an appreciative once-over, which has her smirking despite herself, even in the middle of a firefight, "I highly doubt it!" He's got a point. Darcy groans, diving under an ornate staircase just as a nearby tree catches flame and falls into the street in front of them.

"Well, you're not following me in with the women and children, that's a waste of manpower and studly soldiers!" Darcy stubbornly maintains, crawling out from under the stairs as the fire goes out on the tile streets. The rush of civilian elves is moving into the palace behind her, while ahead of them, Odin and Thor are having a right and proper battle with her old pal Malekith (who's sporting new chest armor, Darcy notes a little proudly).

Fandral looks torn, for a moment. Until, from somewhere above, Sif leaps and spears a Dark Elf on his dragon mount, right through both the Elf's chest and his dragons', landing on the ground in front of them with her boot on its head like it's no big deal. For her it isn't though, Darcy reminds herself. Fandral shares a smirk with his friend before Sif plunges back into the fray, and then pries the Elf's sword out of his dead fingers, tossing it to Darcy, who bites her lip, "...I've never used..."

"No, but it shall give me some piece of mind as you run, Lady," He tells her.

"Right...stick 'em with the pointy end..." Darcy swallows, turning to run toward the palace, a relieved knight behind her. But then...something weird happens in her brain and she stops. She's armed, now. Sure, she's not great with blades (she'd passed the basics of knives, in SHIELD training, swords were a specialty though and definitely not required), but her training is kicking in, and she's on a mission, and there's people being hurt, and...woah. It's then that Darcy realizes just how far she's come.

Despite not having her body armor, her trusty Glock, or any idea of how to really attack something with this particular weapon, Agent Darcy Lewis still wants to help save the fucking day.

Thankfully, there's someone nearby with a much clearer head, as the dragons and the lightening fill the azure sky above, "Darcy, go!" Fandral moves toward her again, and she opens her mouth, shaking her head slightly.

"But...fire, and people, running!" Your college graduate ladies and gents, she thinks, awash in indecision and maybe a little fear, a little bit being out of her element and needing to do something familiar, productive, even if it might be suicide. Again, it's a good thing she's got a very creative Asgardian concerned with her well-being.

Fandral's chosen method for clearing her head is to yank her toward him, and kiss her so hard that she hears fucking birds singing in her head. Or maybe fireworks. Or Queen's Greatest Hits. And did Tony Stark slip an arc reactor between her ribs while she was sleeping? Because Darcy swears she feels one about to overload in her chest, sliding her arms around his neck and kissing him back, just as enthused, until screaming lungs demand air. "Now please, my Lady," He breathes heavily, pushing her back, "Go."

"...That was playing dirty, Robin Hood," Darcy gulps, making him grin, and then she does the smart thing, gripping her sword and running, leaving a rather invigorated knight behind her. Cause damnit, Darcy wants to live.

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As it turns out, she isn't useless, either. Jane is hurt, and as the only person present who knows how humans work (first aid from SHIELD is better than nothin'), Darcy's the one wrapping up her arm and administering the magical Tylenol from her satchel, as Jane's laid out on the floor of the palace along with plenty of other civilians and injured. "How is it out there?" Jane groans, as Darcy tears away the singed portion of her friend's dress, using it to tie a tourniquet on her arm just above a dragon bite.

"Messy," Darcy admits, smirking, "But I don't think our old buddy Malekith knew Odin and Thor were going to be here. Looked that way, anyway, his forces were kinda taken by surprise."

"Go good guys," Jane weakly waves a hand, as a willowy, pale elf woman pauses near them to offer her a pitcher of water. Darcy's Lord of The Rings fantasy is now complete, she's seen real, good-guy elves. She just wishes there were a few less dragons and people being hurt. Jane smacks her lips a few times, "Oh, that's nice, thank you," The elf smiles, moving on. "...Holy crap, I feel like my insides are rebooting."

"...Nope," Darcy eyes her wound under the bandages, "It might've slowed the bleeding though, yay."

"...Why are you all glowy?" Jane suddenly squints, looking her in the eye. Darcy swears this woman comes out of her oblivious comas at the strangest times. Though, perhaps she can't be blamed for wanting to distract herself, having been bitten by an alien dragon while her future husband is outside battling more of the things. Darcy would probably be busily distracting herself in that position, too. As it is, she's trying really hard not to worry too much about someone herself.

"No idea what you're talking about," Darcy can't hide a little smirk, though. "...Though someone might have used super-manipulative means to get me to go hide with the women and children. Manipulative means involving tongue."

"...Oh, thank gawd," Jane rolls her eyes, grinning, "I thought I was going to develop anxiety problems, watching you two...and wait, what the hell did you think you were going to do out there?! Fury made you leave your gun, body armor, AND taser on Earth."

"Yes, something I plan on bitching really loudly about. And I had a sword..."

"Were you going to hold it out and hope that the dragons ran into it?"

"Hey, woman, I hold your life in my hands," Darcy mock-glares, tugging lightly on her tourniquet. "...And I'm not sure if...I mean, I think there are Disney Princesses out there who are totally jealous of me right now, sure, but he's still..."

"...Ugh, damnit Darcy, just jump the man already," Jane lets out a sleepy yawn, despite the fire and the roaring and the cracking of thunder going on outside. "He's nuts about you, and has given up the hos for you. They can give up the hos for good, you know. Ask Pepper Potts."

"...I'm not quite as close to her as you are, but...you have a point." Darcy sighs. And the dragons roar.

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Thor and his father save the day, eventually, and with minimal casualties. Relations between Asgard and Alfheimr get even friendlier, because hey, allies help each other out. And the healers at the Tower praise Darcy's quick thinking with the tourniquet, because while Jane wasn't in danger of bleeding out, she was in danger of infection by black dragon saliva moving through her veins. Who knew?

Thor plants himself at Jane's bedside and insists that she stay in Asgard until she's completely healed. Darcy pretends to find it soppy and gross, but frankly, she's glad, as Fury apparently wants her down on Earth for her debriefing ASAP. Leaving an injured Jane is much easier when Darcy's leaving her with the big lug.

"So much for the week of partying it up, Asgard style," She tells Jane ruefully, squeezing her hand as she moves to go, "I'll be back up as soon as they let me, promise."

"Darcy," Thor rises and gives her a trademark bear-hug, "I cannot thank you enough, my sister and friend."

"Buddy, anytime," Darcy chuckles, deftly escaping after a moment, "Just keep an eye on my homegirl."

Her boots padding back toward her home-away-from Earth to rush a packing job, Darcy finds herself keeping an eye out for her other friend, wanting to see him before she catches her portal, even though she's not quite sure what she's going to say when she does see him again. Sure, it was the heat of the moment, but damnit if she hadn't enjoyed it just as much as he had. She'd always been attracted to Fandral, that was never in question, but there was definitely more happening there now, and not just in her pants. And it wasn't as if the guy hadn't made a real effort, had lost interest. Nope, Mr. The Dashing kept coming back for more, little as he got.

Still, her head's full of all the what-ifs and good old fashioned self preservation arguments, much as her heart is totally getting won over. The man's basically immortal, how wouldn't he get bored after a while? Go back to the nice tall Asgardian chicks? 'Well, who's to say -you're- cut out for more than a fling, Lewis?' Some small voice in her head asks, and Darcy has to give it that one. Just because she knows what she wants, doesn't mean she's some paragon who'll have no trouble whatsoever getting there, as far as it depends on her. And plenty of people go into relationships with all the best of intentions, and still don't make it. Or so Darcy's pretty sure, her last relationship of substantial length was in high-school, so...

Such is the state of her thoughts when she reaches her door, and of course, he's leaning on one of the ornate pillars outside, flashing her a wide grin in the flickering light of the brazers. Darcy slows, smirking down at her feet, before chancing a glance back up, "...Aw man, do you ever -not- get injured?" She suddenly blinks, eying the wrappings poking up from under the open collar of his tunic. Fandral waves a hand, shrugging.

"It's rare," He winks, "But I have endured a little dragon-fire more than once, my Lady," The way he says the title this time, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to her palm instead of her knuckles, has her swallowing hard, looking up at him.

"Someday you'll have to show me all the scars," She murmurs, taking a half a step closer.

"Well, few wounds are beyond our healers' skills to mend without a scar, but," Fandral gives her hand a tug, pulling her closer, "Dragon fire is one of them..." His other hand moves to brush her hair back from her face, and Darcy sighs, shutting her eyes.

"...All right, so, I'm gonna give you a chance, Robin Hood, but if you step all over me, I swear to Th-..." She's cut off by him literally sweeping her up off her feet and kissing her soundly, propping her up on one arm like the alien superhero that he totally is. Wrapping arms and legs around him, mindful of his burns, Darcy slides her hands up into that great hair of his, like she's always secretly wanted to, and gets a downright -moan- in response. And then she's being turned, propped up against the pillar while he keeps right on kissing her, hands gripping her hips hard.

They know how to kiss in Asgard, Darcy rediscovers. It's no wonder, really, that Jane fell so hard. Between his tongue and the lack of oxygen, too much kissing like this would make Einstein himself go stupid-happy for a while. When they come up for air again, it's just a pause, before he's kissing her throat and while Darcy's never been a fan of facial hair before, she's definitely making an exception for Fandral the Dashing, a little whimper leaving her lips.

"...Damnit, Fandral, I'm supposed to be catching a portal in fifteen minutes," She finally forces out, when his hands start wandering. He sighs, dropping his forehead against hers, grinning again.

"Horribly unfair, that," He murmurs, setting her back on her feet, even as she keeps herself close, wrapping her arms around his waist now. Warriors, seriously, everything under her arms was muscle. He wraps his arms around her tight. "...Come back."

"Promise," She murmurs in reply, "Probably within a day or two." Darcy looks up at him, cracking a grin, "Think you can go that long without forgetting about me, Mr. The Dashing?"

His answer is a much more gentle, slow kiss, and then, "I've not been able to rid you from my thoughts for two of your years now, My Lady," He tells her with a soft smile, "Why should a day or two matter?"

That's about the point when Fandral the Dashing wins the rest of Darcy Lewis over.

And they turn out to be especially comforting words to her, in the coming weeks. Because the very next day, one of New York's many evil scientists destroys half the SHIELD labs, damaging the Foster Generator, and leaving Thor, Jane, and Fandral in Asgard with a half-repaired Bifrost, and Darcy very much still on Earth.

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	6. The Book Of Love

((My unabashed love of Harry Potter shall sneak into EVERY fanfic set in modern times. Also, this was fun! And as promised, this will get it's own one-shots and all. In fact uh, I may have one of the smut-prompts rough-drafted in my head *coughs* So there's that to look forward to XD Enjoy, I love your faces.))

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Chapter 6

The Book Of Love

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To her credit, when the fight is over and Darcy crawls down through the wreck that is SHIELD's labs and sees the generator missing half its components, her first thoughts are of Jane. All her work over a painstaking year, after Thor's arrival and SHIELD's resources had helped fill in the last few holes in her equations, fatally damaged. And the only woman who could fix it is half-way across the galaxy. Okay, true, Erik's on Earth, and he understands this stuff, he and Tony sweeping in on the thing like ravens to a shiny object once it's moved up to the helicarrier. But Darcy, in her stubbornly loyal (and yeah, really forlorn) way is convinced that Jane is the only one who really -understands- the thing.

She doesn't let herself wallow in despair and self pity though, at least not at work. There's stuff to rebuild, a mad scientist to process, big important things to do. No, Darcy doesn't let it all out until Agent Pollock and, surprisingly, Pepper Potts take her out for drinks.

"I'm going to miss her so bad," Mrs. Tony Stark sighs around her gin and tonic, "I'd almost gotten her to start looking at wedding dresses instead of new hard drives..."

"I liked when her boyfriend was visiting," Claire admits, lofting a mojito, "Just, yanno, for the oggling opportunities. I think Bennie did too. In fact I know it's not just -my- alone time Thor's snuck into..."

"Oi, it's not like they're freakin' dead," Darcy protests, tossing back her shot of SoCo and Lime. "Or, or that we'll never see them again. They're like, two-thirds of the way done with repairing the Bifrost, and Tony and Erik are crazy-smart, even without Jane's mojo for the subject around, so...yeah."

Pepper smiles, knowingly, reaching across their table and squeezing her hand, "Tony will fix it, and...probably add lasers and a robot voice."

"And how exactly do they go about fixing the Bifrost, out of curiosity?" Claire tilts her head, "I mean, I saw in the files that Thor came back without it when New York was exploding. Er. One of the -first- times New York was exploding."

"That was his dad summoning Dark Magic cause woah, Loki with a tesseract was high priority," Darcy sighs, "Dark Magic aint cool, it gets bad people's attention so y'only use it when shit's gone to shit. And Loki's safely locked up now. Soooo, back to like, using Asgard-science and gathering the power of dying stars to fix the Bifrost. Odin's gotta take a lot of breaks, it takes a lot out of him.

"You talk about it like most 20-somethings talk about something mundane, like going to the laundromat." Pepper notes, smirking, "Those months as Jane's intern really stuck with you." Darcy bites her lip, nodding.

"...Honestly, up until the last month or so, when my mettle was finally proven and I...kinda snagged a god? Those were some of the best months of my life," Darcy sighs. Claire wraps both arms around her shoulders, and Pepper pats her hand again.

"We'll get them back," She tells her, firmly, "This is just a bump in the road."

"Yeah, but it was right before I was about to get off at the exit to Laidsville...heh, get off...gawd, another shot."

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The connection to Earth has been severed.

Fandral could have taken one of Sif's spears to the chest, he thinks it might hurt less. Hogun tells him he's being over-dramatic. Hogun's also got his Lady and child here in the same realm with him, so Hogun has no room to talk.

Lady Jane leaves her sickbed as soon as she can dart past Thor, pushing her hands through her hair when she sees all the levels and gauges silent, in the room Odin had granted her and his son for travel via the generator. She looks near-mad, though Thor assures everyone around them that she's simply very dedicated to her science, and that this is akin to one's far-traveling child suddenly going silent. It's Heimdall, on Odin's command, who peers into the stars and informs them of the damage below.

While this gives Jane Foster and Thor a purpose, it stirs something in Fandral that he still finds alien, and thus mildly unsettling. But mostly, he finds it frustrating as all the levels of Hel, knowing that Midgard is still enduring attacks, still being threatened with Darcy on it, and he cannot reach her. It was a feeling he and his companions had tried to break Thor out of, not that long ago. Fandral understands his Prince's thinking, now, the irrational feeling that maybe, just maybe, leaping out into the abyss past the Bifrost would land him in Midgard.

Instead, while Lady Jane familiarizes herself with the work of the brilliant scholars of Asgard, aching to rebuild the connections, Fandral forces himself back to his chambers, to the training yards. The cosmos chooses this time to be terribly uneventful, the Dark Elves retreated and Midgard's troubles unreachable, and so his distractions are few. He wears himself out in the training yards, and then retreats to his rooms to read the books she'd left for him, when she went home.

He'd liked the first one she'd read aloud while he was healing, simplistic as its language was. Darcy had assured him that the following exploits of Harry Potter got more complex, darker and more violent as the character grew older, and Fandral had been intrigued. And so as she'd packed for home, she'd given him a smile, drawing six more books out of her bag, "Okay, so, I know I'll be back soon? But they're a quick read. And my scribbles from high-school are everywhere in them." She'd pressed them into his arms as she'd said goodbye...

Supposedly only for a few days, at most. And now Fandral was reading through them swiftly, lingering on her doodles and notes in the margins. They were fine tales, but more than anything, they sent her back to him, if in a thin, pale way. Even after a tiring day in the training yard, she filled his senses at night, a few sweet kisses before she'd left all that Fandral has to dwell on, and dwell on them he does. He's pined before, but those seem a pale parody in comparison. And somehow, knowing that Darcy returns the notion has resulted in no relief, or release from his longing, as it has in the past. No, Fandral longs for her more than ever, and she's half a galaxy away.

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Three weeks later, Darcy asks Phil Coulson if he knows anyone at SHIELD who would train her on how to use a sword.

"Thor kind of...had a really nice, light sword sent to my room, before I left Asgard. In thanks for helping Jane. Yanno, even on Asgard men give clueless man-gifts," She clears her throat. "...I -would- like to spend my off time learning how to use it, though."

"...Agent Lewis," Coulson leans forward at his desk, tilting his head, "Does this have anything to do with being separated from your friends and, as I can assume from the eyes we've had around during most of your excursions to Asgard, your connection to Fandral, of The Warriors Three?"

Darcy thinks about denying this, for maybe all of ten seconds. But this was Coulson, and this wasn't just Fandral, it was Jane as well, and Darcy needed -something-. "Yep," She admits firmly, nodding once, "I miss Jane, and I miss Thor, and I miss Thor's hot friend. And instead of sitting alone, crying on my couch over Doctor Who episodes, which I've been doing way too much of even with my heavy work load, I'd rather be adding another weapon to my skillset, -Phil-." She smirks. And to her surprise, Phil Coulson smirks right back.

"Excellent. Gym, eighteen-hundred, I'll teach you how to swing that thing."

"...You?" Darcy's brows go up, and Phil downright smiles.

"I am a man of many talents and hobbies, Agent Lewis."

Those hobbies apparently include medieval reenacting, because Phil doesn't show up after dinner with just a pair of standard fencing foils, but also a heavier, hand-worked sword in the style of Darcy's much more ornate weapon from Asgard. "There are some great Fairs upstate," Is all the explanation he offers, "Now, we start with the light stuff, and move up to the hacking and slashing."

"...Truly Phil, you are my Qui-Gon Jinn."

And so, as the days stretch on, Darcy Lewis fills her evenings with swordplay, happily going home bruised and exhausted. It doesn't fix things, but it does make them even less lonely, more productive, and Darcy has at least one more way to kill things. Claire comes along to watch sometimes, and eventually points out that Darcy may in fact be giving her a guilt trip over being SHIELD's most useless acquisition.

"Eh, don't worry about it," Darcy pauses in her exercises, puffing damp hair off of her sweaty brow, "That used to be my title."

"Say the word, Agent Pollock," Coulson adds smoothly, not even breaking a sweat as he deflects Darcy's advances with an easy flick of the wrist, "And we'll have you in advanced combat training too. We already know you can...somewhat handle alien tech."

Claire grins, shakily, "...Oh hell, peer pressure, yeah okay."

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Four long months later, Fandral is deep in his cups when Lady Jane's cry of elation echoes throughout Asgard.

He's been all right, as time has gone on. He's finished the books and then read them again, and he's taught Hogun's son how to play rock, paper, scissors. He's gone on hunts again with his friends, even been out for drinks at the Taverns, his bright laughter peppering conversations once more. Fandral has remained a little subdued, though. After steady rebuttals, the usual ladies have left him alone more or less, and while he's stopped checking the Bifrost's progress hourly, he still goes every day, standing by Heimdall and watching the universe swirl.

Fandral had long known that he liked Darcy, known he wanted to try for her. But far from making the feeling lessen, being parted from her as made him realize that he loves her. Even if he has gotten used to being without her, his soul doesn't much like it, and that means something.

Which is why he spills his ale, when Jane's cry reaches his chambers. And then Thor is dragging him outside, gleefully. "The gate is repaired!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

They step into the room encasing the swirling blue portal just as Iron Man steps through, retracting his mask, "Come with me if you want to live." he deadpans, and then grins right at Thor, "Naw, seriously though, good to see you Fabio. Now get your buddies, some badness is raining down on New York City."

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Four fucking months.

Darcy's been good, she's been all right. She's fit, she's up for top analyst at work, and she's gotten herself a pair of kittens at home. Her dad saw her on the news one day when the Avengers were busting a terrorist cell, toting a gun and her SHIELD body armor, and he hasn't shut up about how proud he is to anyone who'll listen (he's also going on and on about how damn smart she is, which is what Darcy's REALLY wanted all her life, good dad that he was). She'll never be a social butterfly, fun as she is at a party, but she has regular friends in Claire and Bennie, sometimes Pepper or even, memorably, Hill, and her amazing drunken Karaoke.

And she can use a sword now!

Basically, life itself is awesome. It's not easy, it's hard work and training herself to be focused, dedicated, but it's all been worth it. She's thankful for the chances she's been given, and for what she's earned, but Darcy misses Jane. She misses Thor, and she really, really misses Fandral; nothing will fill those absences.

She tries not to think too hard, about how the former playboy might be filling four months in Asgard. It's perfectly possible to think he's maybe moved on...but no, she tells herself, stubbornly. He made her a promise, and until she has an actual reason to think otherwise, Darcy forces herself not to worry about him breaking it. People can change, keep promises, strive for what they really want...she of all agents should know that. That kind of thinking helps.

Nothing helps, fully, with the missing, though. Guys at work have asked her out, and it's not even a slight temptation. Darcy knows why she aches for Jane, who's like another sister to her, whom she loves. Which makes Thor like a brother in law, also whom she loves. Which makes Thor's buddy that she's downright pining for like...oh.

Yes, it's about at four months when Darcy admits that she might be in love with the guy. Sif and Volstagg the kittens agree with her, when she mutters it to the walls of her apartment. "Damnit, I love him."

The next day, she hears buzzing on the carrier that Stark has had a breakthrough with the Foster Generator. Darcy's learned by now not to give too much weight to the idle chatter among the other Red Shirts, but one glance at Fury's expression as he does his morning pace across the command center, and she's steadying herself for some good news. The Director has his 'things might explode or they might go splendidly' face on today. Darcy goes through her surveillance routines with a spring in her step.

Just about the time that official word comes down that Iron Man is suited up to go through an honest to Thor portal to Asgard, though, Darcy's computers start flashing red alerts. "Agent Hill!" She calls, and Maria's over her shoulder in a matter of seconds, squinting at the intel coming in from the city down below them.

"Shit," Hill murmurs, "Looks like we've got space squids. Again. Agents, suit up!"

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Darcy lets out a cheer, along with the other SHIELD agents around her, when Thor flies overhead, lighting up the sky and knocking Aliens out left and right. And then she goes right back to covering Captain America as he sprints down the street, shooting up smaller aliens as he makes a B-line for the giant Lovecraftian horror that's slime-ing up Broadway. She keeps her cool, trying not to get distracted, to stay on task and continue getting civilians off the streets, and keep aliens away from them, while the Avengers deal with the big bads.

Still, Darcy's heart leaps a few times when she spots Sif down the way, driving her spear through two Squidbillies at once. And when Fandral finds her, it's like every holiday on the calender (Christian, Jewish, Muslim and Wiccan) has come early.

He stares at her, at first, almost as if he's not quite sure who he's seeing. Darcy knows she's as short and long-haired as ever, but her limbs are leaner, a bit of muscle actually showing under her suit and body armor, and oh yes, there's a sword strapped to her back. She stares right back, taking a moment to convince herself that he's really here, in New York, as, per usual, things are exploding around them and their friends are knocking aliens out of the sky.

Fandral takes one step toward her, his eyes lit up and a slow grin forming, "My Lady..."

"Hell yeah I am," Darcy murmurs, slamming her gun back into her holster and taking a running leap at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, and kissing him in a good and proper hello. "I missed you," She whispers against his lips, between kisses.

"I missed you," He replies, and then another kiss,

"I was so lonely." Kiss, "I got cats and learned how to use this sword..." Kiss,

"I was unbearable to live with," A grin, and a kiss, "I read all your books twice..."

A throat clearing over Darcy's com alerts them to the watching eyes of Director Nick Fury, "...Robin Hood, Deadpool, I'm very glad that you two are back together, but we've kind of got an invasion to hold back."

"Right sir!" Darcy coughs, yanking Fandral in for one more long kiss before he sets her back on her feet. "...We live through this, I'm taking you back to my place, Mr. The Dashing."

"I can meet the cats!"

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After the Avengers victory, the unavoidable statements to the press, hugging Jane tight enough to nearly suffocate her (and being very pleased that she hadn't gone ahead and gotten married yet. Four months was a long time), Darcy cheerfully drags a very willing Asgardian home with her. After stripping each other of armor, she introduces him to the wonder of Midgardian showers, and then to the various things to be done in them once one is clean and one has a boyfriend with exceptional upper body strength.

And then she introduces him to Midgardian beds which, all right, nowhere near as impressive as the giant, ridiculously soft ones of Asgard. But Fandral just grins, "Perhaps not, but the company is infinitely better." And then he's rendering her unable to form a coherent thought. While the shower had been hot, fast, and enjoyably bruise-inducing, this is slow, attentive, and damn, a few centuries of adulthood have sure taught the man many things. But it's more than technique that has Darcy gripping her sheets with white knuckles. The way he's looking at her, looking her in the eye...it's downright reverent. It's as if he's...oh.

When she drags him up for a kiss, it's with very possessive arms and lips.

Later, when he's lounging on her couch in a pile of blankets, eying her curious kittens with a wary expression, Darcy rummages through her movie collection, unearthing the first season of her favorite sitcom and a certain old film that had always been a favorite. "...It's a little weird, you not being in your armor or Asgardian threads," She grins, "Not that I'm complaining. Just, you kinda look human, 'cept for the facial hair..." Well, unless she took home a super-buff hipster, maybe.

"I'm quite comfortable with looking human, then," He grins, eying her choices in entertainment when she drops them on the coffee table, plucking up Robin Hood, "At last! I shall finally understand your fascination with calling me after this rogue..."

"Errol was kind of a childhood crush, guilty," Darcy admits, "And I once promised to introduce you to Barney Stinson too, so..."

"A good memory..." Fandral looks up at her then as she sits beside him, tugging her back into his arms. "...I do love you, My Lady." He murmurs, and somehow, it doesn't feel out of the blue or too soon at all. Probably because Darcy came to the same conclusion the day before.

"...Yeah, and I love you," She gulps, sliding her hands through his hair as he presses a kiss to her neck, "...And I think it might be more than a little epic, too."

"Most certainly epic..." And the movie is almost certainly about to get forgotten...

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...and then an explosion, that sounds a lot like more alien ships, rocks Darcy's building and her cell phone starts lighting up, vibrating across the coffee table.

"...Mmmm, you are so the reason explosions turn me on, aren't you?" She murmurs, before wrenching herself away. Fandral laughs, leaping up as well and reaching for his armor.

"It wouldn't be a proper romantic moment between us, lady, without them..."

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